


Of Masks and Roses

by TheImaginativeOne



Category: Phantom of the Opera (2004)
Genre: Coma, F/M, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Self-Insert, Sorry Not Sorry, Time Travel, self-insert is my thing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-04-11 15:41:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19112710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheImaginativeOne/pseuds/TheImaginativeOne
Summary: All I wanted was to have a fun night, go to the movies with my best friend, and nothing else. Nope. After an accident on the way home I get sucked into POTO. Now what? How am I going to get home? And how am I going to deal the Phantom breathing down my neck?  Originally Posted on Fanfiction.net





	1. The Accident

**Author's Note:**

> This story is originally posted on Fanfiction, and I decided that enough was enough and I had to post it here as well. The beginning of it has been written 4 years ago, so it's not written very well, but I do plan on re-editing it and re-posting it, maybe as I am posting chapters. I will usually update once every week to two weeks. Since 3/4th of it is already written I'll be able to keep a relatively good schedule with it as I finish on Fanfiction. I'll probably re edit the chapter then post it here, and then re post it on Fanfiction as well. If you want to forgo waiting for me to update on AO3, just go to my site on Fanfiction, same name there as here and you can read what's already written, but reminder most of the chapters aren't edited and have been written 4 years ago, when I thought I was a good writer but I was lying to myself lol. Thank you guys for choosing my story, and I hope you enjoy!

"Come on Scarlet or we'll miss the movie!" my friend Emily called, running ahead of me to the popcorn line. Her short sun dress billowing behind her as she ran, the colors blending together in a multi-colored rainbow. I wish I could pull off clothes like that.

"I'm coming!" I shouted as the cashier handed me back the change and our two tickets, and I quickly pocketed mine in the back pocket of my jeans. I then ran over to Emily handed her the rest of the money and her own ticket. She grabbed them without looking at me, gazing up at the menu above the food vendor in thought. After shoving the money in her purse, she lifted a hand and brushed a strand of her wavy blonde hair from her freckled face.

"I'll go ahead and grab us some seats. You get the popcorn, okay?" I said as I began to back away towards the movies. Emily nodded and I left her to her thoughts as I entered the hallway where the movies were playing. I slowly walked down, fiddling with my red work shirt, paying close attention to which door had which movie. Then I found it.

The Phantom of the Opera - 4:30

The Phantom of the Opera was probably one of my most favorite movies of all time and I was so excited to see it again on the big screen. Every Saturday, the movie theater plays old movies, or classics. The movies range from The Wizard of Oz to A Christmas Story and more. And this Saturday they were going to play The Phantom of the Opera. I wouldn't really call it a classic or an old movie, since it was only made in 2004, but, hey, at least I get to see it on the big screen one more time.

My name is Scarlet Moore and I am 22 years old. I have been a huge fan of The Phantom of the Opera for years. I've watched all the movies, and read all the books, and when I was younger, I even saw the Broadway show. The Phantom of the Opera is such a big part of my life, I don't know what I'd do without it. Emily is also 22 years old, same as me. She hasn't known the beauty and extremely haunting story as long as I have, but she still holds the tale in a special place in her heart.

I smiled, shoving the door inside and walked through the small hallway that lead to the movie screen, rushing slightly with excitement so I could get Emily and I good seats. Standing in the middle of the room I took a glance around. There were not many people here. Maybe 5 at the most, which made sense. No one really ever comes to these showings, but that made it easier to find a place to sit. I quickly, but quietly walked up the stairs to the middle of the theater and turned town the middle row, silently smirking to myself. Despite the fact that there were already some people here no one had yet to snag the best seats in the house. I grabbed a seat and sat down, looking up at the large screen, where a bunch of trivia questions and local commercials were playing. I hummed along to the tune of a familiar car commercial as I waited for Emily.

Two commercials and one TV promotion later, Emily finally arrived with the popcorn, bounding up the stairs with glee and walking down the isle to me.

"Did you put extra butter in it?" I asked quietly as she handed me the box.

"Of course I did, why wouldn't I?." she whispered as she sat down, "I'd be crazy if I didn't."

I chuckled and shook my head, "Just making sure," I mumbled back as I popped a few in my mouth.

"Hey!" Emily whisper shouted, reaching out and snatching the box from me, "Save it for the movie!" she giggled as she set the box down at our feet.

"I am!" I whisper shouted back as the lights began to dim. I grinned in excitement as the soft music began to play, and a yellow candle was lit aflame. I felt my heart soar as the movie started, reaching down and grabbing the box of popcorn while Emily was placing her phone in her coat pocket.

XxX

"Oh my gosh that was such a good movie!" Emily shouted as we left the theater, the door slamming behind us.

"Agreed," I replied as I finished off the last of the popcorn, throwing the now empty bag into a garbage can.

"Hey, want to come stay at my place tonight? I just went grocery shopping yesterday." Emily asked as we reached my car. I dug my car keys out of my pocket and unlocked the doors.

"You have food? Count me in!" I laughed as I got into the vehicle.

"Good, because guess what I have?" she asked me as she got in on the other side.

"What?"

"MORE POPCORN."

I snorted in laughter as I turned the keys to the ignition, feeling the car start up, "Oh, Emily, what would I do without you keeping me fed."

"You'd be living a sad life, nerd," she grinned and stuck out her tongue playfully as we buckled out seat belts, "Besides, I kinda owe you. You paid for the movie and all." I nodded as I plugged my small MP3 player into the AUX cord, scrolling through my playlist.

"The movies get more and more expensive every year! Next time we go to the movies you're paying!" I said as I quickly chose the Phantom of the Opera Soundtrack and placed the device into my cup holder.

Emily raised her hands up defensively, chuckling, "Ok, ok! I promise that I'll pay for the next one." Glancing behind me, I placed the car into reverse and slowly pulled out and left the parking lot.

I glanced at Emily out of the corner of my eye as we turned onto the highway and smirked, holding up my pinkie to her, "Pinkie swear?"

Emily rolled her eyes, but held up her hand and shook my finger with hers, "Pinkie swear."

For a majority of the drive, we were silent. Her house was 3 miles away so it was going to be a while. We used to live relatively close to each other, but when Emily moved out of her parents house and into her own apartment the drive to each other's home took longer than it used to. The music continued on as we drove, and I found myself softly humming to The Music of the Night as we continued.

After a while, Emily broke the silence with, "Scarlet?"

"Hmm?"

"Have you ever wanted to help the Phantom? And help him get Christine or something?"

I shrugged, "Yeah, sometimes. But I also want to help him with his whole emotional issues too. I mean, he never really deserved any of that. How he's been pushed away all of his life. How he was tortured. How he was betrayed. All because of his face. He doesn't deserve it. No one does. All I'd want to show him is that he's not alone in this world. No one is."

"Yeah... I kinda just wanna punch Christine in the face for being such a lil bitch."

I snorted at her response as we stopped at a red light. I sighed and relaxed a bit, never have been fond of driving. But it's the easiest way to get around.

"I'll pin her down, and you go for the eyes, ok?" i joked, and the two of us burst into laughter.

"Hey, what was the Phantoms real name again?" Emily asked through a laugh, turning to me.

"Uh, Erik Destler." I said as the light turned green and I slowly stepped on the gas.

"Yeah, that's right, cause I couldn't- LOOK OUT!"

Just to the left out of the corner of my vision, I saw the car advance on us quickly. I knew we were going to crash, we were too close to each other.

Then everything seamed to wind down, as if we were in slow motion. The car, a red truck was just an inch away from mine, towering over us like a skyscraper. Eyes wide, I looked up at the driver, who had his eyes closed, one hand on the wheel and in the other a beer bottle, which he was drinking heavily from. He wasn't wearing a seatbealt.

And then I felt it, the moment when the front of his car touched the left side of mine and time came back to us, as if it never slowed down.

His truck rammed into mine, smashing the back window and glass rained down. I felt us slide as his car pushed against our own. I could hear Emily screaming as we started rolling, the windshield smashing, my door pushing into me. We tumbled over the side of the road, and I slammed my head into the window and as we finally stopped moving my world went black, the music fading away into nothing.


	2. An Opera House

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the second chapter! Let me know what you guys think of it! Leave a comment, a kudos, and a hit and if you would like to read more subscribe! Let me know what you think!

I groan as I begin to come to. My head is pounding as I try to pry my eyes open. Everything is blurry, and then crystal clear, then blurry again. I hiss in pain and try to move, but it feels as if my whole body is on pause and I can't so much as move my arm before my vision blurs and head spins, causing me to feel nauseous. I can feel that I am lying on the ground, but I can't tell much else about where I am or if I am even close to where my car is.

Huh. I think to myself. The ground is a lot harder than I thought it would be. I move my hand around to feel beneath me and my brows furrow in confusion. It's hardwood floor. Why am I on a hardwood floor? Shouldn't I be on the grass or in my car? Did someone bring be inside of a building as we wait for an ambulance? Where's Emily?

Then I heard someone yelling, and I try to move to see who it is, but I can't. I can't move at all unless I want to vomit. I can feel someone running, their footsteps vibrating off the floor. I turned my head slightly as someone knelt down next to me but I couldn't pinpoint who it was, my vision was so blurry. I felt their hand on my shoulder and they shook me slightly. My head flared and I whimpered in pain.

"Mademoiselle? Are you alright?" It was a woman, with a really strong french accent. I weakly opened my mouth to reply, but all that came out was a squeak. I felt the grip on me tighten and my head began to swirl again.

"Oh gosh, somebody get a doctor!" the voice shouted, then turned back to me with a calm voice, or at least as calm as they could get, "It will be okay mademoiselle," she assured me, "Help is coming." At this I could hear people shouting and more feet pounding on the floor, coming closer to the two of us.

"What happened?" asked a voice, a man this time, and I could feel him plop down next to us, a hand touching my other arm.

"I'm not sure, I didn't see," said the woman, "But my ballerinas did, they tell me she fell from the rafters."

I whimpered in confusion. Ballerinas? Fell? From some rafters? No, I was in a car accident! I wanted to say. There was a drunk driver! Where's Emily?

Then everything went dark again.

XxX

"How is she doing?"

"Well, she's got a concussion, but that's about it. I'm surprised. She took a pretty big fall. Do you know why she was on the rafters?"

"No, monsieur. I didn't even see her fall. No one even saw her get up there. It's like she came out of nowhere."

"I see. Well, send a message if you ever need me again."

"I will."

I slowly opened my eyes and stared up at the ceiling, my head pounding but not as hard as before and I could finally see and move again. I was lying on a small bed with plain, white sheets covering me. I slowly turned my head to the right and looked at the woman that was sitting next to me, who was reading a book. Her long hair was braided and rested over her shoulder, and she wore a black dress. A cane rested against the table next to the bed. On the table was a bowl and a pitcher of water with a rag. A small tin cup sat next to it. I squinted my eyes, wondering if I was going insane. The woman looked just like Madame Giry, from The Phantom of the Opera, the 2004 version.

The one I saw last night. I thought to myself. The one I saw with Emily. Just before the crash. Where am I?

The woman glanced up at me, then did a double take. She sighed softly and closed her book, setting it down on the table.

"I see that you are awake," she said as grabbed at her cane, holding it in her hand as she sat.

I opened my mouth to reply, but I had nothing to say. I was stunned. Confused. Scared. I didn't know where to start. So I closed my mouth.

"Can you tell me you're name?" she questioned.

"S-Scarlet. Scarlet Moore." I whispered, not trusting my voice.

"My name is Antoinette Giry, but you can just call me Madame Giry. Earlier today you seamed to have fallen from our rafters and have gotten injured from the fall. Can you tell me why you were up there, and why you were in the Opera House in the first place?"

Opera House? Tears came to my eyes and I shook my head, "I- I don't know." I stuttered, "I-I can't r-remember. Whe-Where am I?"

She squinted at me, but answered my question, "You are at the Opera Populaire. In Paris, France."

"What year is it?"

"1870." she said it like it was an obvious answer, looking at me like my head was hanging off my shoulders. Her response caused me to tremble.

"Sorry," I mumbled, looking away, "I must have forgotten."

Madame Giry stood up with an exasperated sigh, "The doctor said that you could have slight amnesia from the fall. You have a concussion and will need rest before you head home."

"I... don't think I have a home. At least I can't remember." I said, twisting the sheets in my hands.

Madame Giry nodded, "Well, until you can remember you can stay here at the Opera House. Perhaps we can secure a job for you until you regain your memory. Is there anything that I can get you, Mademoiselle Moore? Some food perhaps?"

"Can I have some water?" I asked meekly, "Please?" My head was beginning to spin again and my eyes darted around the room nervously.

"Of course," she said, setting her cane against the table, grabbing the tin cup and picture of water. I took a look around as she poured me a glass, noticing that I was in a room with wooden walls. There was a window in front of me and a desk underneath it with boxes of medical supplies resting on it. A wooden door was to my right. To my left was a small closet and next to it was another small door. Decorating the ceiling was a small, brass chandelier but instead of light bulbs there were unlit candles.

Madame Giry reached out to hand me the cup, drawing my attention. I sat up slowly, my head beginning to swirl, yet I took the cup from her hands as I took deep breaths.

"Are you sure you don't want anything to eat?" she asked as I took a small sip, swirling the water around before I swallowed. My head began to clear and I sighed in relief.

"I'm sure." I mumbled, then downed the rest of the cup. Madame Giry reached out and took the cup from my hands, setting it back down onto the table.

"Now, I'm afraid I have to leave, for I have some business to attend to," she said, grabbing her cane from it's resting place and tapping it on the floor, "Do not leave this room without me, the Opera Populaire is large and you could get lost quickly. I advise you to stay in bed so you can heal. In the mornings I will bring you breakfast and in the evenings I will bring you dinner until we are certain that you can leave this room on your own, or until someone comes for you," she then grabbed her book and turned away, heading towards the door, "Goodbye for now. I will be back with your dinner in a couple of hours. Get some rest."

"Wait," I called out. She turned to look at me.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Was there another girl with me? With blond hair?"

Madame Giry looked confused and shook her head, "No, I'm afraid not. You were the only one up there. Do you remember their name?"

I blinked, "N-No. I don't. Sorry."

Madame Giry's face fell in disappointment, "Of course. Get some rest."

I sighed, but nodded in understanding as she left the room, staring at the wall in front of me.

"I've gone back in time," I whispered to myself, "I've gone back in time, of some sort, and have found myself in The Phantom of the Opera movie. Or maybe I'm dreaming and hallucinating everything," I closed my eyes, "I'm just hopped up on pain meds. I'm really just at a hospital, or it's an elaborate prank... or I'm dead," I shook that last thought away from me, "No, I'm not dead. Maybe. I'm sure I'm just dreaming. And when I open my eyes I'll be in a hospital bed. A real one. In my own time." I took a deep breath, feeling the sheets under my fingers, "This is all just one big hallucination."

I opened my eyes with a snap, and glanced around the room. My heart fell to the floor when I saw that I was in the same room that I woke up in. Same bed. Same brass chandelier. Same tin cup sitting next to me on the bedside table. I glanced down at the sheets and felt them in my hands, the threads rough against my fingers.

"It's not a dream." I whispered to myself in defeat, "I really am in the Phantom of the Opera. Madame Giry exists, Meg Giry exists, Christine Daae exists," I paled, "The freakin' Phantom exists, too, probably."

I turned to look at the door, my brown furrowing into determination, "I may be in a movie, but I can fend for myself," I told myself, "No matter what injuries I have." I sat there in silence for a moment, then slowly threw the sheets off of me. I slid my legs off the bed and placed my feet onto the floor, took a slow and deep breath then stood up. My vision swirled and my head spun like a top. I groaned and collapsed back down onto the bed, quickly covering myself with the sheets.

I took deep, shaking breaths as I held my head in my hands. My toes curled as pain and nausea racked through me. Soon, the pain passed and I sighed in relief, relaxing in the bed.

"What am I going to do?" I asked myself, "I'm going to die here. Probably by the hands of the Phantom if I'm not careful." I groaned and turned over in the bed and closed my eyes.

"I want to go home."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you guys go! Hope you liked the rewrite! Let me know what you think!

A few hours later I awoke to my door opening. Turing my head I spied Madame Giry as she walked into the room, two girls trailing behind her. Madame Giry stared down at me, holding a small tray of food in her arms. I sat up in my bed and glanced over at the two girls standing behind Madame Giry. Only two guesses on who they were. The first had wavy, blonde hair, and innocent brown eyes. She wore a pure white tutu with tights and point shoes, standing in a relaxed first position with her arms resting in front of her. She looked down at me with a smile and I couldn't help but timidly smile back. It was clearly Meg Giry. The other girl was slightly taller than the first, yet wore the same garments as Meg did. She had curly, chocolate brown hair that tumbled down her back in waves. Unlike Meg, she stood normally, her arms by her side, holding a jar in her hands as her doe eyes gazed at me in curiosity. I couldn't help but stare back in wonder.

'It's freakin' Emmy,' I thought to myself, 'It's Emmy Rossum. From Phantom. From Shameless!' I blinked. 'Wait, no. Not Emmy. Christine. Christine Daae... Still super intimidating though, jeez.'

Madame Giry cleared her throat, causing me to draw my attention to her, "How are you feeling, mademoiselle?" she asked.

"B-Better." I answered. Glancing back and forth from Madame Giry to the two girls.

Madame Giry handed me the tray and I glanced down at it. On the tray was two slices of cheese, a piece of bread, a couple of steamed carrots and a small slice of ham. My stomach immediately began growling at the sight. I muttered a quick and very grateful thank you to Madame Giry before I snatched the bread and tore into it hungrily, grabbing the fork and knife and cutting into the ham as I chewed. It felt like I hadn't eaten in years, yet it had only been, at most, a day since the last time I had eaten. Granted, it hadn't been much. A large box of popcorn wasn't enough to keep me fed for 24 hours, despite how delicious it may have been.

Madame Giry coughed again to get my attention, causing me to look up at her wide eyed. I muttered a small apology and set down my utensils, giving her my full attention.

She gestured to the two girls, "Mademoiselle Moore, I would like to introduce to you my daughter, Meg Giry, and her friend Christine Daae."

'I freakin' knew it.'

"Its very nice to meet you two." I said to them. They smiled, nodded, and looked to Madame Giry as she continued.

"Meg is Prima Ballerina in the Opera Populaire and Christine is a dancer and chorus girl. They are going to help me take care of you for the next couple of days, bringing you your food and such if I should be busy."

So Christine isn't Prima Donna yet. I thought. Looks like I am in the beginning of the story.

Christine stepped forwards holding out the jar she was carrying, "I brought this for you," she said as she handed it to me. It was full of chopped ice and was cold to the touch, "I heard that you had a concussion from the fall, so I brought some ice for you."

I smiled up at her, "That's so sweet. Thank you Christine." Christine smiled back and backed away. I placed the jar upon my forehead and sighed softly as the cold began to dull the throbbing, which was finally almost gone. I took this moment to glance down at what I was wearing, and found myself in a white dressing gown.

I looked up to Madame Giry, "Where are my clothes?" I asked softly.

Madame Giry looked at me quizzically, "What do you mean?"

"I was wearing a red shirt and pants, wasn't I?" I asked.

She pursed her lips, "Oh, yes. The... garments that you were wearing were very... odd, to say the least. We wanted to make sure there were no other injuries from the fall, such as broken bones, so we had to remove them. Unfortunately, we had to cut them away. I apologize for any inconvenience."

I nodded my head, "No, it's alright. I understand."

"I'll have some dresses sent up for you once you are finished with you food. For now, eat, rest. And I assure you, you will be out of this room and on your feet soon."

I nodded again, moving the jar to the other side of my head, "Thank you Madame. I really appreciate you helping me get better. And I apologize if I have been a nuisance from this ordeal. I promise I'll make up for it in the future."

Madame Giry's eyes softened, "Of course."

Soon I found myself sitting alone in the room, munching on my meal in silence, thinking about my current predicament.

"Ok, Scarlet. Everything's fine. Everything is going to be alright. You don't know how you got here, or how in the world you are going to get back home but you're going to figure this out," I sighed and took another bite, chewing for a moment, "Whatever happens from now on, I'll just roll with it. Just roll with the punches," I took a deep breath, running my hand through my hair, "The future is known, yet unknown. At least in my circumstances."

I softly set my fork down upon the tray, staring at it in thought.

"Also I'm going to need to find some pants. I'm going to freakin' die here if I have to wear dresses all the time."

XxX

My eyes widened in awe as I gazed around the large auditorium. The giant chandelier shimmering in all it's glory above me, the gold statues against the wall gleaming in its light made my heart leap in excitement. The hundreds of red chairs stood out surrounded in all the gold and I felt giddy as I gazed up at the mural on the ceiling. The heels of my shoes clicked against the hardwood floor of the stage as I walked across, gazing up at box five, wondering if he could be up there; watching.

"This place is so beautiful." I whispered, turning to Madame Giry, who was standing behind me. She had been showing me around the Opera House for most of the day, and had saved best for last, "I could just stand here and look around, taking in every detail for the rest of the day."

Madame Giry smiled at me, "I'm glad you feel that way," she spoke, "But we must continue. You did say that you wish for a job here?"

I nodded, "Of course."

"Then follow me, I'll have you talk with Monsieur Lefevre." she instructed, and the two of us left the stage and began our trek through the Opera house, "May I ask, what position are you applying for? Dancer? Seamstress? Chorus Girl?"

I shook my head, "No, I can't dance. The last time I tried to sew something I ended up ripping what I was working on, and I can kind of sing, but I'm not trained or anything, plus I have a bit of a fear singing in front of large audiences, so that's out of the question too."

Madame Giry tilted her head at me, "Then what position are you applying for?"

I shrugged, "Stagehand."

XxX

"You wish to apply for... what job exactly?" asked Lefevre, his eyes wide. Madame Giry and I were currently standing in his office. It was full of stacked books, papers, and files. His desk was covered in letters and pieces of scrap paper, yet was also organized in an unorganized sort of way. Lefevre was a tall, very professional man and his mustache had him remind me slightly of Theodore Roosevelt, who, if I was correct, was still alive. His hair was perfectly in place and his suit nicely tailored and prim. Not a thing was out of place, and I knew just by looking that this man meant business; that his job was important to him.

"A stagehand, Monsieur." I replied.

There was a pregnant pause, then he cleared his throat and sat up straighter in his seat. There was a window behind him, with the sun shining through, filling the room with a bit of warmth despite the autumn season I knew was on the way, "Surely you could have a less... dangerous job. Can you sing? Dance, sew? Anything?" He asked.

I, once again, shook my head at this question, "No, Monsieur."

"How about a... maid, perhaps?"

"Please, Monsieur, I promise that I'll work very hard. No mess, no funny business. I can paint, carry heavy things, the works. Trust me."

Monsieur Lefevre sighed, glancing over at Madame Giry, then back to me, "Are you sure?" he asked.

I nodded, "Positive."

Lefevre stared at me for a moment, then stood up from his desk with a deep sigh. Walking over to a drawer he pulled it open and began to riffle through it. After a moment, he pulled out a piece of paper, and walked back towards the desk, grabbing a quill and ink and setting the three in front of me.

"This is a stagehand contact," he explained, "I'll have you sign it, but if you decide that you would like to change positions, or leave the set crew just let me know and I'll have it changed for you on the spot. Understand?"

I nodded, "Yes, thank you, Monsieur." I grabbed the piece of paper, detailing my job title and all that was required of the position. At the bottom was a single line for me to sign my name on. I grabbed the pen, and hovered it over the ink jar.

'I've never used one of these before,' I puzzled, then dipped the quill in the ink. I took it out and wiped the edge against the jar, then hovered it over the line. 'Well, here goes nothing.' Breathing out slowly I placed the pen on the paper, slowly writing out my name.

Scarlet Harper Moore


	4. First Day

"Ah, Madame Giry!" cried a man as the two of us neared him, "So good to see you! I hope that the ballet rats are behaving, yes?"

We had ventured from the managers office to the backstage at Monsieur Lefevre's instructions, telling us to go and find the stage manager who would give me a station and someone to teach me the ropes. Madame Giry and I passed giant, plaster statues of lions, Acrobats dressed in their performance outfits, and even a couple of ballerinas who were battling over a bottle of beer with the cavaliers. The moment they saw Madame Giry approaching them they had scurried away to practice, leaving the cavaliers laughing and Madame Giry and I to wander further until we had found who we were looking for.

He was a scruff, but lean man who's hair was beginning to turn grey, yet wore a curling, black goatee with pride. He was dressed quite nicely for someone working in the catwalks of an Opera House, wearing a white shirt, black slacks, and a brown cap rested upon his head. His leather shoes were perhaps the only thing on him that was a mess. They were well worn and covered in drops of paint, showing me that despite the fact that this man was clean and proper, he was a hard worker to boot, literally.

Madame Giry smiled slightly as we stood in front of him, "As well as your set crew, I assure you, Monsieur Bayard." she answered, tapping her cane on the floor in front of her.

Monsieur Bayard laughed, a boisterous and loud guffaw that echoed around the stage and would have put Ghibli to shame, causing a small smile to ghost on my face as well.

He placed his hands onto his hips, looking at Madame Giry with his undivided attention, "So what brings you to me, hm? Aren't you supposed to be preparing your ballet rats for rehearsal?"

"I am here to deliver some news from Monsieur Lefevre. You have a new stagehand, Monsieur."

Monsieur Bayard grinned, "Why, that's just fantastic!" he exclaimed, then took a glance around us, "Where is he?"

Madame Giry smiled politely and nodded at me, "She's right here, Monsieur." Bayard glanced over at me with wide eyes, but a smile still plastered on his face. He looked at me up and down, then back over to Giry.

"A woman, you say?" he asked, then looked at me again, "Working as a stagehand? I've never heard of such a thing." there was a pregnant pause, then he reached over and shook my hand, "Well, it's nice to meet ya!" he greeted, "Forgive me for ignoring you there. I thought you were a ballerina with Madame Giry. The name's Francois Bayard, but you can just call me Bayard. I hate the name Francois. Makes me sound like a sissy."

I grinned, "My name is Scarlet Moore, and there is nothing wrong with being a sissy, sir."

Monsieur Bayard laughed again and dropped my hand, "Touche, Mademoiselle, touche!"

Madame Giry turned to me, "I must leave you now," she spoke, "But if there are any problems I'll only be nearby. Good luck, my dear."

I nodded, "Thanks, Madame Giry, for all the help you have given me." She nodded as well, then turned away, disappearing into the crowd bustling around us.

"So, what made you want to be a stagehand, Mademoiselle?" asked Bayard.

I shrugged, "Can't sing. Can't dance. But I can work as hard as any man, I'm sure of that."

Bayard nodded, "I understand, I can't sing either. Well then," he continued, clapping his hands together, "Let's get you started, shall we? I'll have you working up on the catwalk. I'm working on the stage, myself, so I won't be able to help you much. But I am sure there is someone around who can teach you what to do." he then turned away, glancing around, then looked up into the rafters, "Aha!" he exclaimed, "Oi! Simon!"

A tuft of curly, orange hair popped out of the darkness and looked down at us, "Yeah?" he asked.

Bayard waved at him, "Come down here, kid!"

"Be there in a moment!" he replied, then disappeared as soon as he came.

Monsieur Bayard turned back to me, "That was Simon, the new-hire before you, Mademoiselle. He came here about, eh, I'd say a month ago. He's already learned a lot and he's a pretty nice kid. I'm sure he won't mind showing you around."

I glanced over when I spotted Simon walking over towards us, wiping his hands on his pants.

"What seems to be the problem, Mr B?" he asked as he stopped in front of us. He was a little taller than I was, wearing dirty slacks and a brown shirt with suspenders. His curly, orange hair stood out every which way and his eyes reminded me of coffee. He looked quite skinny for his age, probably a year or two older than I was. Looking down at his shoes, they looked well worn and in need of replacement.

Monsieur Bayard shook his head, "No problems, Simon. I just wanted to introduce you to our new stagehand, Mademoiselle Scarlet Moore."

Simon looked at at me with a smile and held out his hand, "It's nice to meet you, Mademoiselle."

I smiled back and took his hand,"Thanks, Monsieur. It's nice to meet you as well."

Simon shook his head with a smile, "No need to be so formal, just call me Simon."

"And you can just call me Scarlet."

"I would like it if you would teach her the set cues for Hannibal and help her up on the rafters," instructed Bayard.

Simon nodded, "Yeah, sure! Of course I can. We show Hannibal in only a few days, so I'm sure I can teach her the cues by then."

"Splendid! Well, I'll let you two get to it. If you have any questions or need anything you'll find me down here somewhere," Bayard said, tightening the cap on his head then turning and strolling away.

"Sure thing!" called Simon, then turned to me, "Ready to get started?" he asked.

I nodded and rolled up the sleeves on my dress, "Of course."

Simon turned, beckoning me, "Well, if you will follow me I'll take you up to the rafters and we'll start to set up for today's rehearsal. We'll just be setting up for act one today so everything should be fairly explanatory."

The two of us neared some rickety, wooden staircases and began to climb a few levels until we were a few feet above the stage. I grinned and peered over the wooden guardrail and down at the stage. There were so many people bustling about below us. Holding props, wearing half-made costumes, and ballerina's stretching in the corner. And the rafters weren't so calm either. People walked passed us as we stood, holding ropes and sacks of sand.

"This place is really busy, isn't it?" I asked Simon as he picked up a bundle of rope.

He nodded with a chuckle as he neared me, "Oh yes. And it only get's busier as the date of the show nears. Ready to get started?"

XxX

"Next I will show you how to tie a rope to a cleat," said Simon, holding a rope in his hands as we knelt next to a wooden panel with rows of cleats lined together. He had taught me a few tasks already, like taking sacks of sand and hooking them to certain props, pulling heavy items from the stage up to the rafters, and coiling ropes and showing me where to store them. "It goes like this," He continued, "First you go around, then under, then over. Then you go under, then over, then under and you pull it through. Got that?" He asked me, untying the rope and handing it to me. I nodded and tried it myself.

Go around, then up then over. I thought to myself, Then under, over, under and you pull it through.

I turned to him, "How does that look?"

Simon nodded, "It looks good. And be sure to pull it tight. We don't want any accidents," He stood up, "Now, what we're going to do next is raise up the beam for the rehearsal of Hannibal today. We don't need it until act three."

I nodded and stood up with him, wondering to myself when the rehearsal that the Phantom shows up in was, when loud thuds sounded on the stairs next to us. I turned and looked when a man with brown, scraggly hair and torn, dirty clothes stopped in front of us. He smelled rancid as he looked at me up and down, then took a swig from a beer bottle resting in his hand then glanced at me again with a glare.

"Who the fuck are you?" he asked in a gruff voice.

I tilted my head and crossed my arms, "I could ask you the same thing."

He swayed, "Fine, let me ask you again. Who are you and what are you doing up in my rafters?"

I heard Simon huff from behind me, "It's not your rafters, Buquet. And may I remind you that you shouldn't be drinking on the job?"

Ah, so this is Buquet. Wow, he really is an ass.

"May I remind you that I don't really give a shit." he said, then turned to me again, "I still don't know why you're up here."

"If you must know, she's a new stagehand." commented Simon, rolling his eyes.

Buquet scoffed, "Yeah, right. If she's a stagehand, then I'm sober. Women can't do stage work."

I tilted my head, "And yet I'm here working my first day better than you could do in a week." Simon snorted and Buquet glared at me, grumbling as he turned and headed down towards the stage. I turned to look at Simon and the two of us burst into laughter. I held my sides as Simon plopped onto the floor, giggling uncontrollably.

"Jesus Christ," I chuckled, "That guy's a real ass, isn't he?"

Simon nodded, his face red, "Oh yes, but don't let him bother you. Just try to avoid him and you'll be fine," Simon stood up, "I'm pretty sure Lefevre or Bayard plans on firing him soon."

"I though Lefevre was retiring?"

Simon shook his head, "I heard it's just a rumor. I don't believe it one bit."

I smiled and held out my hand, "Five francs that he is."

He grinned and shook my hand, "You're on! Ok, let's raise this beam up before Bayard yells at us."

I giggled, "Yeah, alright. Don't want the boss to be mad at me on my first day." I leaned down and untied a rope from a cleat, pulling it tight and wrapping it around my wrist.

"Be prepared," Simon called to me as he held his side of the rope, "This thing is pretty heavy."

I nodded and braced myself, "I'm ready."

"Pull on the count of three. One, two, three!" and with that we yanked hard, the beam slowly being raised up from the stage up to our level. I pulled as hard as I could. The thing was heavier than I thought. When it reached our level Simon and I dropped down and tied the rope down.

"Nice job," Simon commented as he and I stood up straight, the two of us breathless, "I'm going to be right back. I have to go tell Bayard that Buquet is drinking on the job and isn't at his post. His usual post is right here. A few more complaints and he'll surely get fired, right?" he said with a smile.

I nodded, "Probably."

Simon chuckled, "Alright, I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere." and with at he was gone, leaving me all alone. I turned and glanced back down at the stage, watching as Maestro Reyer instructed a singer onstage as he flipped his music sheet to the right page. Tapping the stand with his baton he gestured to the singer.

Unexpectedly, the air was filled with the worst sound that I have ever heard, and I plugged my ears as it only got louder.

"This TroooOOOOOoooophyyyyyyyy,

From our Saviors,

From our SAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaavioooooorsAH!

Frooooooooom the enslAAAAAvIIIIng FOOOOrce,

OOoooof ROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOME!"

I cringed as the woman's singing stopped, and watched as she hopped off to the side of the stage. I had no doubt that this was Carlotta. I glanced away from her and over to a group of people in costumes as they strolled onto the stage, singing far better than Carlotta had.

"With Feasting and dancing and song,

Tonight in celebration,

We greet the victorious throng,

Returned to bring salvation!"

I smiled and relaxed and the music played, the beautiful melodies filling me. Music always brought out the best in me. It made me happy, made me cry, made me feel so many emotions that I can't even describe. Music was my first love, and for the first time since I arrived here I felt myself feel peace as I listened.

"The Trumpets of Carthage resound.

Hear Romans now and tremble!

Hark to the steps of the ground.

Hear the drums!

Hannibal comes!"

Confetti was thrown into the air as I watched a fat man stroll onto the stage, walking like Hannibal should. He had an air of importance to him as he stopped and raised his arms up high.

"Sad to return to find the land we love

Threatened once more by Roma's far-reaching grasp-" there was a tapping sound as the conductor stopped the music, the sound of the instruments falling away.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen," sighed Monsieur Reyer, annoyed at Piangi's slip-up.

"As you can see," said another familiar voice, whom I realized was Lefevre. He was leading two gentlemen behind him as they strolled into the middle of the performance, "Rehearsals are under way for a new Production of Chalumeau's Hannibal."

"Monsieur Lefevre! I am rehearsing!" shouted Reyer.

"Monsieur Reyer, Madame Giry," called Lefevre, "Ladies and gentlemen, please, if I could have your attention? As you know, there have been rumors of my imminent retirement. I can now tell you that these were all true, and it is my pleasure to introduce you to the two gentlemen who now own the Opera Populaire, Monsieur Firmin, and Monsieur Gilles Andre." he said, gesturing to the two gentlemen behind him. The two of them smiled and looked around at everyone while the cast and crew applauded, Andre even waiving.

I smirked, "You owe me five francs, Simon."

"I'm sure you have read of their recent fortune amassed in the junk business," Monsieur Lefevre said with disapproval in his voice.

"Scrap Metal," Andre spun at him quickly then smiled, "Actually," then turned to Firmin with an annoyed face.

Firmin ignored him, turning to everyone, "And we are deeply honored to introduce our new patron. The Vicomte de Chagny." As the sounds of clapping filled the air, I glanced over and spotted Christine and Meg walk onto the stage. Christine's eyes lit up in recognition as Raoul strolled over to the Managers. I looked over at Raoul and I had to admit, in person he was pretty cute. He was the exact image Of Patrick Wilson, except for the long brown hair, which flowed as he stood next to the new managers.

"My parents and I are honored to support all the arts, especially the world-renowned Opera Populaire." he smiled. Carlotta raised her hand up and strolled over to them, her face plastered with a smile.

"Vicomte, Gentlemen," began Lefevre, "Signora Carlotta Giudicelli, our leading soprano for five seasons."

Carlotta smiled and curtsied as Raoul took her hand and kissed it. My nose crinkled in disgust as she giggled and curtsied again, her 'helpers' calling 'Brava, brava,' from behind her as people around her clapped. Piangi coughed and the attention was turned to him.

"Signor Ubaldo Piangi," continued the old manager and this time mostly everyone clapped. Piangi bowed his head in thanks, his helmet held in his hands.

The Vicomte nodded at him, "An honor, signor. I believe I'm keeping you from your rehearsal. I will be here this evening to share your great triumph," he looked over at Reyer," My apologies, Monsieur."

"Thank you Monsieur le Vicomte!" shouted Reyer, eager to get moving, "Once more if you please, signor."

"He love me. He love me," Carlotta boasted, turning to her crew as they scrambled to fix her hair and makeup, "Love me, love me, love me."

"If you please!" called Madame Giry, trying to clear the floor for her ballet, "Monsieur."

I watched as the dancing began, the ballerinas jumping as twirling, the chains on their wrists clinking together as they danced. The music sounded breathtaking as I listened.

"We take particular pride in the excellence of our ballet, Monsieurs." Madame Giry said.

Andre's eyes widened as some ballet rats jumped over the chains of others with flair, "I see why." he said, then pointed over to Meg, "Especially that little blonde angel."

"My daughter," commented Giry with a knowing look on her face, "Meg Giry."

Firmin pointed over at Christine, "And that exceptional beauty. No relation, I trust?" he asked.

"Christine Daae. Promising talent, Monsieur Firmin. Very promising."

Andre tilted his head, "Daae, did you say? No relation to the famous Swedish Violinist?"

She nodded, "His only child. Orphaned as seven, when she came to live and train in the ballet dormitories."

Firmin leaned down, "An orphan, you say?" I rolled my eyes.

Madame Giry looked up at him, "I think of her as a daughter also. Gentlemen, if you would kindly stand to one side." she instructed, leading them over to the side of the stage.

"Hannibal's friends!" The chorus continued, every actor and dancer now on the crowded stage. Carlotta held her hand up high with a fake smile, which quickly fell when someone stomped on her dress.

"Ah, me! Not on my dress, why!?" she yelled, pulling her dress to the side. Then glancing back at the managers she pulled her fake smile again, raising her hands and continued to sing. My eyes widened as a large sculpture of an Elephant was rolled out onto the stage, it's head twisting back and forth. Piangi walked over to it and began to try and climb onto it's back.

"The trumpeting Elephants sound,

Hear, Romans, now and tremble!

Hark to their step on the ground,

Hear the drums!"

I cringed at Carlotta's singing. She was singing louder than usual to try and get the attention of the managers. I plugged my ears in preparation.

"Hannibal comes!" with a few more notes and a bang the song ended, everyone posing together on the stage, Piangi giving up and turning towards the auditorium, holding his hands high in the air.

"ALL DAY!" Carlotta shouted as everyone began to walk away. She threw her arms up into the air, "ALL DEY WANT IS DA DANCING!"

"Well, the Vicomte is very exited about tonight's gala," happily said Lefevre as he walked over to the managers.

"Ah. Ahahah," Carlotta chuckled as she walked up to them, "Allora, allora, allora. I 'ope 'e is excited by dancing girls as your new managers, because I WILL. NOT. BE. SINGING!" she screamed, then turned away calling to her helpers, "Andiamo, tutti."

Andre looked at Lefevre, "W-What do we do?" he stuttered helplessly.

"Grovel," Lefevre said simply. The new managers gaped at him, "Grovel, grovel!" Lefevre instructed, Andre and Firmin rushing over to her as fast as they could.

Thank god. I thought to myself. Soon the Phantom will drop the beam onto her and she'll be out of our hair til Notes. I paled and stiffened. Wait, the beam! That's where I'm at!"

Before I could turn around and leave, I felt something hard collide with my head and I crumbed to the floor in a heap. I gasped as my vision went blurry and I looked up and squinted at a dark shape standing over me, looking out and down below. As my vision cleared I could finally see him better. He was dressed all in black, so much that at first glanced I almost thought he was a shadow. His hands were gloved in black leather and he wore a cape, his white half-mask standing out.

I tried to stand up, but with a small cry I slipped back to the ground, my head throbbing in pain. Second time this week.

The Phantom's head spun towards me, realizing that I was still awake. I looked up at him in wonder as he slowly knelt down to my level, keeping eye contact with me. His eyes were an emerald green, I realized.

Holy shit. Holy shit. Oh my god it's him. I thought. He slowly took his gloved hand and cupped it underneath the right side of my jaw. I admit it, I was trembling.

What is he doing? I thought as he held his hand under my jaw, staring into my eyes as I stared into his. His white mask gleaming in the dull light the candles gave off. Before I could pull away, he flicked his wrist and I felt one of his fingers thrust up and into where my neck and jaw met. I felt my body tense up on its own accord and for the second time that week, everything went black, not even the beginning notes of Carlotta's Think Of Me could pull me back.


	5. The Phantom of the Opera

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Here is the re-do of chapter 5! Sorry this is a bit late, I was a bit caught up with things. But it's here now! Yay! I hope you guys like it! Let me know what you think!

Erik's POV

That old crone has been in this opera house for far too long. Her horrible singing, her many daily tantrums, and the way she treats everyone in the Opera Populaire is enough to make one go insane. For the past three years Erik has had to deal with Carlotta and her racket, and now enough is enough. It was time for her to step off of her platform, leave the Opera House for good, and have someone else take her place. Someone better.

Someone like Christine. The perfect Miss Christine Daae. The girl who could do no wrong, who sings like an angel.

His angel.

Erik's plan was already unraveling in his head as he stalked above the stage in the rafters, hidden in the darkness like a shadow. Silent as night, the stage crew passed by him without a second glance. Once the coast was clear, Erik stepped out for a moment and gazed down onto the stage. Carlotta was having another one of her fits, the new managers frozen by her sudden and dramatic outburst.

Erik smiled. Now was his chance! With the diva in such a drastic state, one slip up and she'd be out of this Opera House for good. And he knew exactly what to do.

Slipping back into the shadows and sneaking down to the 3rd level, Erik made his way towards the large beam that was perfectly placed right above her head. He knew that the space would be empty, for Joseph Buquet, who's usual post was by the beam, was rarely ever at his station. Usually drunk and off to spy on girls, the space was left empty for Erik to observe and cause a disaster every once in a while.

Just as he was about to come out of the darkness to make his move he stopped in his tracks. Standing in front of him was a woman. Erik tilted his head, puzzled. The only women that he had ever seen up in the rafters were the ballet rats that had dared to climb even to the first level. But this woman was no ballet rat, judging by her clothes and physique. She wore a light blue dress with white frill around the edges, not a costume or a ballerina uniform. She was no chorus girl for the fact that she was not practicing with the others. She stood, leaning against the ledge as she stared down onto the stage, relaxed. As if she was meant to be up here.

Erik shook his head. Now was not the time to wonder about this random girl. Now was the time to find a way to get rid of her, so he can then get rid of Carlotta. Then he can look around and find out why she was up in the rafters in the first place. Act first, questions later.

Looking around, Erik spotted a spare candelabra near him. He reached out and took it from it's spot, blowing out the flame as he stared at the girl. Slowly he inched towards her, the candelabra held aloft in his hands. As he reached her, she stiffened and stood up straight. Not wasting another moment, Erik swung. The candelabra hit her head with a loud THUNK! The woman cried out softly, and fell to the floor in a heap.

Erik huffed and placed placed the candle aside. Looking over the edge, he gazed down as Carlotta started to prepare herself for the aria. Just as he was about to reach over and untie the two cleats holding the beam up he heard a yelp. Erik looked down at the girl, noticing that she was still awake. Slowly Erik knelt down to her, the woman's eyes staring wide at him. He slowly tilted his head at her. Her eyes were a striking sapphire blue that gazed back into his emerald ones in awe. Or possibly horror.

Erik slowly reached out to her, cupping her chin in his hand. She did not flinch, only stared at him in almost... recognition.

Erik shook those thought away and expertly thrust his pointer finger into a pressure point under her jaw. Her whole body seized and her eyes rolled into her head, and with that she was out like a light, her body collapsing onto the floor. Hopefully, when she wakes up, she'll think of this moment as just a dream.

Without another moment to loose Erik stood, gazing down onto the stage. Carlotta had begun singing already. Everyone was calm and quiet as they listened to her. Erik, on the other hand, cringed at her song, her voice sounding like nails on a chalkboard.

"Remember me, once in a while,

Please promise me you'll try.

When you find

That once again you long

To take your heart back and be free-"

Erik glared, untying the ropes from their cleats and without warning the backdrop fell. There was screaming and shouting as the beam made it's target, landing onto the skirt of the Prima Donna. Carlotta fell over with a cry, trapped under the weight of the beam. With a smirk, Erik melted into the shadows once more, satisfied, for he knew that nothing would stop this Diva from leaving this Opera House after this. Unbeknownst to him, he had a witness that had seen the whole thing unfold.

No One's POV

"I hate you!" cried Carlotta, slamming her hands onto the stage floor in anger, "Up! Up! UP!" she screamed, everyone scrambling over to help her.

Meg turned to Christine, "He's here," she whispered to her in fear, "The Phantom of the Opera." Christine stared back, her eyes wide as they looked up into the rafters. There was no movement to show that anyone had been up their during this whole ordeal.

"Signora, are you alright?" asked Lefevre as he helped her up, then turned his attention to the rafters, "Buquet! For God's sake, what's going on up there?" he shouted. There was a flurry of footsteps and the raggedy man appeared above them, pulling the ropes and lifting the beam back into it's place.

"Please, monsieur, don't look at me!" he shouted, "As God's my judge, I wasn't at my post!"

Simon burst through the crowd on the stage, looking up at Buquet with worried eyes, "Where is Mademoiselle Moore, Buquet?" he asked, "She's supposed to be up there!"

"She's right here, boy! Unconscious at my feet!" There was a worried murmur through the crowd and Monsieur Bayard rushed over to Simon.

"What happened?" Bayard asked him.

"I left her alone for only a moment, sir. I was trying to find you!" Simon explained.

Buquet continued, "It was the Phantom, it was! I saw the whole thing. He attacked her!"

"Dear Lord!" cried Firmin, "Well, someone get up there and help her! She may need medical attention." Bayard and Simon looked at each other, and immediately the two of them disappeared, rushing up to help the new stagehand.

Andre turned to look at Carlotta, "Signora," he chuckled, "These things do happen."

Carlotta looked over at him, her eyes wide with anger, "FOR ZEE PAST THREE YEARS DEZ TINGS DO 'APPEN!," she turned to Reyer and Lefevre, "AND DID YOU STOP THEM FROM 'APPENING? NO!" Reyer just stared at the ground in annoyance, biting his lip. Lefevre stared at her in outrage as she shouted. Carlotta continued, turning to the two new managers, "AND YOU TWO! YOU ARE AS BAD AS THEM! 'Dez things do 'appen?' Mah! Grr!" she growled in frustration, "UNTIL YOU STOPA DEZ TINGS FROM 'APPENING, DEZ TINGS DOES NOT 'APPEN!" She turned to Piangi and her crew, "Umbaldo! Andiamo!" she cried, and the five of them began to storm at of the Opera House, Carlotta screaming profanities behind her as the managers watched helplessly, "Bring my doggy and my boxy! Bye-bye! Ciao! No you see! Bye-bye, I'm really leaving!"

Lefevre turned to Firmin and Andre with a smile, "Well, good luck," he said gladly, "If you'll be needing me I shall be in Australia." and quickly he walked away and out of the Opera Populaire before anyone could stop him.

Reyer groaned in panic, turning away and burying his head in his hands.

Andre turned to him, gesturing towards the direction Carlotta left, "Signora Giudicelli, she will be coming back, won't she?" he asked. Reyer turned to him, shrugged once, then turned back to the wall.

Madame Giry walked up to them, "You think so, Messieurs?" she asked, a slight smile upon her face, "I have a message, sir, from the Opera Ghost," she held out the note. A creme envelope with a red, wax skull sealing the pages. A few dancers and actors turned pale at the sight of the letter, but the two managers scoffed.

Firmin turned to her, "Oh, God in Heaven! You're all obsessed!"

"He welcomes you to his Opera House," she continued.

"His Opera House?"

"And commands that you continue to leave Box Five empty for his use," she explained, pointing up to the box in question with her cane, "And reminds you that his salary is due."

"His salary?"

"Well? Monsieur Lefevre used to give him 20,000 francs a month," she stated nonchalantly, throwing her braid over her shoulder.

"20,000 francs!?" shouted Firmin, swiping the note from her hand and opening it.

"Perhaps you can afford more? With the Vicomte as your patron?"

Firmin huffed, turning to face her, "Madame, I had hoped to make that announcement public tonight when the Vicomte was to join us for the gala. But obviously we shall now have to cancel!" he shouted, tearing up the note as Reyer staring with his mouth gaping, "As it appears we have lost our star!"

A few people began to murmur to one another, Reyer turning away and moaning, putting a hand to his head.

Andre stepped forward, "Surely there must be a-a-an," he snapped his fingers, "An understudy?"

"Understudy?!" Reyer's face was red as he spun back to the managers, "There is no understudy for La Carlotta!"

Firmin turned to Andre, "A full house, Andre!" he cried, "We shall have to refund a full house!" At this everyone began to talk very loudly, turning to each other in worry. Reyer stood with his head in his hands while Andre and Firmin began to bicker on what to do.

Madame Giry stepped forward, tapping her cane on the floor with a loud bang and everyone went silent, turning their attention to her, "Christine Daae could sing it, sir."

Before anyone could answer there was a pounding of shoes above their heads, Simon rushing to the railing and peering down at everyone.

"Messieurs!" he shouted, and the two new managers looked up at him, "Mademoiselle Moore is awake!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you guys go! I hope you liked the rewrite. I know it's a bit short, but the original, believe it or not, was 1,000 words shorter. Don't worry tho, the next chapter will hopefully be twice as long as this one was.
> 
> Let me know what you guys think! Don't forget to leave a Kudos, and a comment! If you like how it's going so far then feel free to subscribe and leave a bookmark! Thank you!


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